When I turn back to Annie, I see a golden light around Frank, and he’s rising off the floor.

I’ve seen this too many times not to know what is happening.

Frank smiles as if he hasn’t a care in the world, which he doesn’t anymore.

Which he doesn’t.

But I do. It hits me. He’s leaving.

This one hits hard. Frank!

I lose track of everything around me. My own heart feels like it’s being pulled out of my chest. Frank!

The party goes on without me.

I head out to the garden.

Frank has been my best friend since that night we played music together in the meadow. Somehow, he’s always understood that I’d pledged my love to Dante, but Frank stayed anyway. He knew I needed a living friend, too, and he was there, my support. He kept asking me out, writing me love letters, but he never stopped being my friend when I ignored the letters and declined the dates.

He stayed my best friend.

It’s rare to have a friend who’s there for you, and rarer still to have one who stays, no matter what, no questions asked, no strings attached, just love.

I’ve had so many loves in my life and one eternal heart-throb, and of all those, the truest friend has been Frank. I miss him more than I’ve ever missed anyone.

Not more deaths! 😦 This is so sad but Cathy is right; it becomes more typical as you’re getting older. I honestly can barely think about it myself and it’s scary to know that everyone who’s a generation older than me will probably move on to afterlife before I do. I thought it was sad and realistic as well. You do so well with including those parts of life into your story.

Through A Glass Murkly

Yoga makes me feel better, but it doesn’t stop the heat. I practice in the shade of the mesquites. Something feels not quite right. The swamp smells of sulfur and methane. Do odors cast shadows? Screams interrupt my practice. A man at the edge of the swamp is in flames “Drop!” I yell. “Roll in […]